


Choke

by TooManyPsuedonyms



Series: Mobile Thoughts [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Breathplay, M/M, Murder Husbands Doing Their Thang, Oh and a blowjob at the end, Vagueness, body fluids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 12:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14020416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyPsuedonyms/pseuds/TooManyPsuedonyms
Summary: Hannibal tends to leave Will breathless. Turns out, he likes it like that.





	Choke

**Author's Note:**

> ... Hannibal has big hands. And, I dunno, I just keep imagining he likes to wrap them around Will's throat. So. There ya go.
> 
> Basically, this is just purely overly romanticized smut.

The first time, it's an honest accident.

 

Will and Hannibal are crammed into a storage closet like reckless, horny teens mindlessly grinding. One of Hannibal's hands is down the front of Will's trousers and the other attempts to muffle the wanton moans rising up from within the empath. Hannibal must have forgotten how large his palm and fingers are comparatively to Will's features. His whole palm smothers Will's open mouth, nearly cupping his jaw to keep it closed, while the fingers have clamped down around his nose and cheeks harshly. It's awkward, almost, but neither is paying much attention. Hannibal is too distracted by the motion of Will's hips and ass as he creates pressure against the bulge behind him, and the other hand fondling the front side.

 

It's not until his vision goes spotty does Will realize he can't get a proper breath in. He fumbles stupidly for a second--his own hands tugging at Hannibal's--whose grip tightens in response. Hannibal is lost to animalistic intent, shushing him gently has he mouths along the back of Will's neck. There are security guards somewhere around, and they're both covered in evidence, but neither one could wait to celebrate.

 

Only when Will grows more desperate for air, feeling lightheaded, and digging his fingernails into Hannibal's wrist scars does Hannibal suddenly relinquish his grasp. The sweet, fresh oxygen into his lungs cause Will to come instantly--splattering against the fingers milking him below. The rush startles him more than anything and he grabs onto any part of Hannibal he can reach with a broken warble of the other man's name. Hannibal joins him in ecstasy a moment later.

 

The second time it occurs, Will is slightly more aware. Hannibal had been crueler than usual. Taunting him and testing him on a particularly bad day when they'd been running through the French quarter of New Orleans during the Mardi Gras season. Will didn't know much about Mischa, but what he did know was that over indulgence of food sometimes rubbed Hannibal the wrong way. Still, Will had never been, and Hannibal could sometimes be overly... sentimental.

 

Like much of their sensual and erotic encounters, it happened fast, without warning, but natural nonetheless. It wasn't necessarily sweet. Hannibal needed an outlet more than anything and Will didn't offer so much as demand.

 

At least this time they had been resting somewhere with furniture. The argument taken to the suite living quarters. Will found himself thrown face first into the back of the couch at some point. He was nearly on all fours, clutching for dear life and biting his lips to silence himself. Mostly from stubbornness. He drove himself backwards into Hannibal more in attack than in need. Both were tense and panting. And then, at some point, Hannibal decided it wasn't enough. An angle was hit _just right_ and Will gave up, tossing back his head to let out a groan of frustrating closeness.

 

Hannibal's reach easily extended to Will's neck. His fingers caught along a stubbly Adam's apple and curled around. With one hand he meant to pull Will closer, connect them front to back and pound away. At first, the brunet struggled against the pressure, still meaning to assert his own dominance in the situation, but Hannibal insisted with the lightest of squeezes.

 

Will's whole breath left him of its own accord. His heart stuttered in its little cage. Automatically, his body followed Hannibal's directions. He was cradled in his companion's thick, corded arms--one hand still pressed around his throat--and the other tilting his face up to capture his mouth in a searing kiss. Will could feel the forgiveness and apologies traded between bites. Bittersweet and too real. And in such reverence, forgot himself how to breathe.

 

They both came harshly, and exhausted, passed out still entwined on a ruined leather sofa.

 

The third time, came much more soft.

 

Will basked in the moonlight, too much like Psyche from the myth, eyes darting along Hannibal's face. A moment between hunting and battling and running. Safety in new life, playing pretend--although what we're they really playing at now? He wondered.

 

"You're staring too loudly," Hannibal murmured. He received a snort in response. Hannibal peaked open one eye with immense concentration. Will lifted one hand, tracing the long, pale strands of his companion's eyelashes with the pads of his fingers to get him resting again. "What is that expression, hmmm?"

 

"Ohhh, I don't know," Will started with a bit of confidence before his voice disappeared into the silvery darkness, "I can't look at my husband with love?"

 

Hannibal's face flashed something--the briefest and most human it ever does in moments like that one--as he grinned with a lazy sort of "cat got canary" expression. Or perhaps, as he was apt to say, "cobra got his mongoose." Will's hand fell back, tucked under his own chin. Hannibal appeared bereft for just a second, before carefully adjusting his body to slide closer to Will's.

 

"Hey, no, lie still," Will warned. His hand returned to Hannibal, but only to steady him and briefly check the bandages around his chest. There was no lingering wetness and as far as he could tell, his stitches were holding fast. Yet, Hannibal coached him calmly the whole time, and Will was proud that he didn't begin to shake until after Hannibal had fallen asleep.

 

"It's not everyday your husband confesses his love for you," the blond argued, one hand grasping his. The fake wedding bands glinted the moon's reflection through the open curtains. Will laid his cheek to Hannibal's non-injured shoulder.

 

"That what this is?"

 

Hannibal laughed, hand squeezing his. Will sighed, memories and emotions too great running through him. It wasn't fair.

 

"Don't do that again."

 

"Laugh?"

 

"No..." Will breathed in shudders, unable to find mirth in the face of the yawning abyss in front of him, "I mean don't--don't you put yourself between me and a bullet again."

 

Hannibal didn't answer. He just fiddled with the band along their conjoined fingers.

 

It was petty, but Will wanted to drive home just home it felt. "I couldn't even _breathe_ when I realized. I--"

 

He didn't finish his thought so much as the mere thought finished him. It was painful, the lack of breath. The panic that gripped him when Hannibal had been felled, if only for a second between them.

 

The room was silent except for the crashing of waves in the distance. Will gasped in little movements and Hannibal held him fast with only the touch of their hands.

 

"I'm still here."

 

Will knew, and he nodded, closing his eyes and trying to breathe in time with Hannibal. Their hands rising and falling at a steady pace with the wounded chest. Measured, sure, calming. Eventually, it subsided, Hannibal silently guiding him, and Will silently grateful... somewhat.

 

"You did this to me... you don't get to leave without my say so," he mumbled into a crisp bandage. Hannibal hummed in agreement it seemed.

 

"Well, you seemed to like being breathless, I thought I'd try."

 

Will paused in his sleepy ruination. His brain scrambled to make sense of Hannibal's meanings. With a tired finality he conceded, "We'll have to talk about this in the morning. We need rest right now."

 

They didn't talk that morning, or really for the next few days as Hannibal healed. By the time they left the seaside, it hadn't been brought up in conversation until it was a fleeting memory.

 

Hannibal was relaxing in an oversized tub. Will had found him--doing who knows what--but he kissed him with the taste of overly saccharine coffee lingering on the tip of his tongue. It wasn't often they could have a lazy moment of peace, but when they did...

 

Will was already disrobing, gliding into the warm rose-scented water with a singular purpose. Hannibal spread his knees as the other settled between. Mouths wide open and tasting the other with obscene wetness. Will was already making pleasured noises and Hannibal was amused intensely. He grasped Will's unruly curls with one hand and pulled him back to whisper filthy things across his plump lips.

 

"Tell me," he said, "Can you hold your breath?"

 

There was a spark of fear, but with a hint of need. Hannibal's long fingers unfurled and he cradled the back of Will's head in challenge. Instead of any snarky thing, Will just responded with one word that seemed more defiant than willing--

 

"Yes."

 

And that was all Hannibal needed to plunge Will beneath the surface. Years of spending time by the river and ocean had trained Will well. He held his breath, nosing careful down to Hannibal's fattening cock. Knowing he had limited time, he took the whole of Hannibal into this mouth. Down to the stem and hollowing his cheeks. Water cascaded over the rim of the tub above him, and he felt himself bobbing in time with Hannibal's surprised thrusting. Will gripped the other man's thighs as the muffled sounds above him purred out encouragements.

 

He concentrated, feeling that dizzy sensation build in his skull, and that burn crawl through his chest. He gasped softly when he felt hand skim his back. Bubbles erupted past his lips for a dangerous moment. But he determinedly focused, trying to ignore the probing digits lowering further to grip the rounded edges of his rear-end. He was sloppily using his tongue, swallowing around Hannibal with every bob and thrust. Working quickly to an end as his strength waned with the absence of air.

 

He felt it all rush out when Hannibal dived into him--spearing him from both ends. Will choked, the sudden intrusion pinning him onto Hannibal awkwardly. He raked his nails along the inside of the other man's thighs in payback. Thin tendrils of blood swirling around his face in mesmerizing distraction. Will chanced a faded glance up from the water to see Hannibal's blurry face entrapped, in rapture, witnessing Will's gift to him.

 

Hannibal's seed coated the inside of his mouth, and he was overwhelmed. It spilled forth and Will rocked back into Hannibal's fingers, begging without words. The cannibal crooked into him--anchoring and pulling him further down into the sordid depths of their love.

 

Will gasped, mouth opening, gushes of air and bodily fluids escaping. Hannibal swiftly hauled him up by the nape of his neck. The oxygen slammed into him in gulps as water dripped off his face--mixing cum and blood and rose petals. Will felt shattered anew as his own release floated milky along Hannibal's.

 

The look on that handsome, sharp face was one of astonishment and devotion. He would worship this sight, forever, the moment engraved in his memory palace--stored away as a prized recollection of just how deep their obsession and need ran for the other. Will sat, catching his breath in a daze that left him almost unaware of everything else around him but--

 

"Hannibal..."

 

The man closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Will collapsing into him. They lounged in their unclean water; Wedding bands shining with oil from crushed roses. Hannibal idly considered purchasing a bigger, more adjustable band for Will's sensitive neck...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Much love!


End file.
